


Pretending Not To Break

by Magnavox_23



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 05:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnavox_23/pseuds/Magnavox_23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They pretend it’s not their fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretending Not To Break

He finds himself speeding away from the mountain with her in tow. They find the closest burger joint they can to satisfy the cravings that came with living nightmares, no sleep and too much caffeine. The fatty food and sugary drinks do little to quell the quest for absolution. She eats his pickle.

He doesn’t want to go back just yet, and neither does she. So they drive. The sky darkens and the air chills. But it isn’t until the first stars appear that she realises they’re not going back tonight. They will deal with the stars tomorrow.

This is her first time in his apartment. He stares at her coat lying haphazard on the back of an armchair. So out of place in the otherwise orderly home. But it fits. He knows she’s wondering why it’s so tidy while his office sits in disarray. Truth is, he doesn’t spend a lot of time here. His home is his haven, his escape when the universe pokes him too hard.

He’s colder than she thought, so she curls closer to warm him as they sit on his couch and pretend. They pretend they’re watching the Friday night movie. They pretend the sight of lifeless bodies and burnt flesh, of innocence murdered lying still in its mother’s arms doesn’t exist, and they pretend it’s not their fault. Just like they pretend her hand isn’t under his shirt and that her fingers aren’t stroking his skin.

She settles heavily against him, and he reaches up to remove her hair ties, pigtails scatter as wisps of hair fall against his cheek. He gives into the need to run his fingers through the strands and she buries her face in the crook of his neck.

Both know they have no right to take this from one another. They’re not friends, never were. They don’t know what they are. It was never quantified. But it fit.

He shudders slightly when her lips lightly trail his neck and over his jaw. He knows she revels in her power to do this. For once he doesn’t care. They shift. He lies back and she sits atop his thighs, rising above him, a goddess in her own right. But even a goddess can fall, can break.

They uncover one another. Baring that which they are not ashamed, that which displays the scars. Her hands are warm, but her mouth is hot. She traces his skin with her lips. Kissing, nipping, tasting. Her heat envelops him. Conceals him, saves him.

He feels her. The way she rises and falls above him, meeting his own thrusts. She whimpers as he kisses behind her ear, moaning when he increases the pressure.

This is what they are now. An accumulation of fear and guilt, pain and pleasure. Whispered prayers of subjugated sins spill from silent lips as they shatter each other in the process.

Afterwards, he kisses her and tells her it won’t be the last time they break.


End file.
